The Hideous Places

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I’m searching for God in the hideous places. Do
you think He is there? Underneath the worm-riddled
wood, and earthy decay, will I find a sacred dwelling
place? Within the muck and the mire, does He bother
to stop by and see how things are? Where there is
stench, and pestilence that erodes, can I see my
fair Lord’s deepest desires? Why am I afraid to turn
over the rocks and spy what comes crawling out from
underneath? Is it fear of what I don’t understand,
or the fear of only seeing
me?

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